


bay cat

by millimallow



Series: the world of owa [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Aasimar, Elves, Fantasy, Gen, Orcs, Talgene Mer, Urban Fantasy, short fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millimallow/pseuds/millimallow
Summary: go from the city, leave for further shores.





	bay cat

the militiamen always come in groups. a single pair will emerge and pluck a trader deftly from his boat, a little gang for a smaller crew, a whole flock for one of the greater galleons with suspicious grand captains. half of them are for the arrests, the other half are for seizing the goods, and somewhere along the line one of them stops to yell at the onlookers. they cry out- “aren’t you people busy at this time of day?”. so they look away and continue on with their routines. it happens for many reasons. enforcement of the tax code as a point of pride for the city-state, notorious rogues finally booked after years under fake names and evasion, shows of intimidation on the part of the city forces. the system is a living organ and it breathes itself to life, perhaps the most formidable port in the north, talgene mer.

this place was the first leg of my journey to the exile island, and all of the above was told to me almost verbatim by a venerable orc sailor. my shock at the sight of two uniformed men dragging a ragged and blithering human from his boat and the subsequent broad apathy from obervers gave my nature as an outsider away, she said, sitting me down by an orange crate and going over the principles of the land. it was a remarkably friendly encounter with someone whose lack of patience for timewasters could be observed in their face. it was also the place where i took my first step towards reaching the island itself. we discussed my project briefly, and afterwards i was able to ask her about the potential of taking a boat towards my next destination. she appeared hush after i said the words, but not the sort of hush which implied, necessarily, she didn’t know. the sort of hush which implied a question running through her head- was it a good idea to tell me? was this good for me? i was easily half her age and nearly half her height, and to this day i have the physical stature of a fleshy twig, so her concerns were not misplaced.

“listen, kid, the island is full of criminals. it’s in the name. and they say the boat ride isn’t any better. we have interesting things here, you know. ”

“people are waiting for me there.” this was a lie, but it seemed to pass. “when you do what i do you have…connections.” she guffawed at the notion.

“don’t tell me about connections. half of the people on this dock know my name good and proper.”

“including the person who runs the boat ride to exile island?”

“…you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” she stood up and took me by the shoulder, shrugging. “it’s your own watery grave, so be careful.”  all i could do was nod in a comfortable ambivalence and let her lead the way much further down the dock. it painted a clearer picture of the city when she did. further down from the professional ships and tidy docks (still enduring the negative graces of the city militia) the boats got smaller and jankier. at some points they were almost canoes barely equipped for even the kinder seas of the talgene-pinnacle pass. and the quarters were fittingly decrepit. tough, scarred men leering at me as i passed, only looking away when they saw my temporary travelling companion. we had been walking for a concerning amount of time when we reached the boat, which to my disappointment was the same sort of fragile sparrow that i had observed earlier. manning the boat, standing at the docks, was an elven woman. medium skinned, hair flame red, green eyes. taking care of some maintenance when she noticed our arrival, which seemed to surprise her greatly and provoked her attention immediately.

“do you need anything?” her voice was tinged with nervousness. and i was nervous in much the same fashion, except i had prepared my statement to her in advance to avoid any spur of the moment confusion. reading out from my mind, on autopilot, i replied.

“i’m looking to take the boat to exile island.” when she heard me, her eyes lit up.

“you’re really looking to go there?” now she was doubtful, and my preparation was exhausted.

“i’m a photojournalist.” in the moment i felt the need to justify my need, regardless of whether she had asked. “my next assignment is there. it’s a necessity.”

“oh! well, if you have the fee to pay me, i can take you there right away. it’s a longer journey than ideal, but… to be frank with you, customers are few and far between.” this statement i could only nod in agreement with, unsure what to say. offer comfort? it felt insensitive. and only then had i noticed that my sailor guide had departed without giving so much as a farewell. was i really getting myself into something i couldn’t handle? so few visitors to such an interesting place could imply nothing good.   
“you’re staring into space.” my train of thought was interrupted. flushed, i pulled out the payment from my bag and handed it over to evade further embarrassment.

“sorry. i don’t really know what came over me.” now i was hush myself.

“it’s alright. we have all the time in the world here.” without another word she took my luggage and tied it to the boat with grainy sailor’s rope. and as i looked behind me towards the city of many-coloured marble, i did question why i did not choose to remain within the greater environs. i took in the fountains and homely townhouses by the bay, the black and tabby cats which wandered the salty air with all the leisure and freedom possible on owa. content as anyone to be alone in the city, comforted by their solitude. content without any deep connection to the world, dipping in and out at their leisure, never in one place for too long.

and i, a cat, had chosen to stow myself away on an island where i would become the most recognizable of all.


End file.
